


Your Mr. Blake

by cowherderess



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:13:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowherderess/pseuds/cowherderess
Summary: Canon divergence. Charles returns early from Poland and surprises Mary, and they resolve some unfinished business between them. Two-shot, posted on my tumblr a while back.





	1. Chapter 1

_Spring 1925_

Mary stood with Isobel, Anna, Daisy, and some of the other staff in the village hall, listening to her grandmother awarding the prizes for that year’s flower show. Mrs. Lorimer, the postmaster’s wife, had just won ‘best arrangement.’ 

There were several still to be awarded before the ‘best bloom,’ always the most highly anticipated, and Mary had begun to feel restless. But as she glanced to the back of the hall to make sure George was still playing nicely with little Constance Worthington, she saw that she was not the only one.

She sighed, and turned her attention to Anna. “How are you?” she inquired, speaking softly for the sake of those who still wanted to listen to the awards. “Are you sure you don’t need a chair?”

“I’m sure,” Anna replied.

“Is there anything else? Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m quite alright, milady.” Anna smiled, and laid her hands over the slight curve of her stomach. “But thank you.”

“You’d tell us if there was anything you did need, wouldn’t you?”

“I would,” Anna promised.

So Mary turned back to the dais, but no sooner had she done so than Daisy spoke. “M’lady, isn’t that your Mr. Blake over there?”

“He’s not my–” Mary began automatically, and then stopped short. “Wait, what?”

“It’s Mr. Blake, over by Mrs. Drewe’s table,” Daisy said, and pointed. Mary looked to the back of the hall and sure enough, it was really him. And he was now making his way through the crowd toward her.

Charles’s face brightened when he realized she had seen him, and she could not help but grin.

“I didn’t think you’d be back until June!”

He grinned back. “Our work took rather less time than we anticipated. Such is the genius of the British government.”

“How long have you been back in England?”

“Not long. But I’ve been busy with debriefing meetings in London, and then they needed someone to attend a conference in Whitby so I thought I’d come down.”

Mary felt a pang of disappointment that he had not come to see her particularly, and was surprised at herself. It had been months, now, since she realized that that chapter between them had probably closed, and she had been all right with it. But now he stood before her, and perhaps her feelings were not as resolved as she had hoped.

“I thought,” he went on, “that I might as well keep up the tradition of using the Whitby fair as an excuse to see you.”

Her heart jumped. That was better.

At that moment Anna, having witnessed the whole exchange, suggested, “Why don’t you two go for a walk?”

“A walk,” Mary repeated.

“Yes, and I’ll make sure Nanny collects George, so you needn’t worry about that.” She gave Mary a big-sisterly nudge forward.

“Shall we?” He looked at her hopefully, hat in hand.

“Well, alright,” she agreed, and followed him back out of the hall. They set off walking through the village.

She felt she had to say something, with the silence between them not quite comfortable. The only thing she could think to say was awfully trite, but she said it anyway. “How was Poland?”

“The country itself is beautiful. The work was alright,” he replied. Then he added, “I thought about you often.”

She glanced over at him, at his open and earnest expression. “You could have written.”

“I did! Didn’t you get my postcards?”

“Yes, but Charles, what can one say on the back of a postcard?”

He took a moment before answering. “I wanted to write a proper letter, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I’m afraid I left things between us terribly muddled. ”

“I’ll say,” she muttered. That last evening in London, he’d kissed her and despite his merely friendly behavior of the previous months, it hadn’t seemed to be entirely a ploy for Tony’s sake. And then he’d said–

“I’m not married, you know,” she informed him. “Nowhere close.”

He had the grace to look abashed at that. “I hoped you wouldn’t be. I know I had no right to, but I did.”

“Then why did you even suggest it?”

“Just in case, I suppose.” He gave a little shrug. “I’m sorry. It seemed easiest at the time, but this past year has proven that I can’t forget about you–nor do I want to.”

She stopped walking, to look at him fully, and so he stopped too.

“And I–I don’t want you to forget about me, either.” Her breath hitched a little in her throat at the admission.

He smiled broadly. “Well then. Let me take you out to dinner this evening? We’ll do it properly this time.”

She nodded. “Yes– and not just dinner,” she added boldly. 

At his look of surprise, she explained, smiling coyly, “That was not much of a first kiss. I think you can do better.”


	2. Chapter Two

_Spring 1925, continued_

Mary and Charles returned to the house after their walk to find the family, Carson, Thomas, and the footmen gathered in the great hall, all trying their best to pretend that this was their usual habit.

Mary smirked, and leaned in close to whisper to him, “You’ve been found out.”

Cora was the first to approach them. “Mr. Blake! How lovely it is to see you again!”

“It’s lovely to be back again, Lady Grantham,” Charles replied.

“Are you here for long? Where are you staying?”

“I’m here for at least the week-end, in a hotel in Ripon.”

“Nonsense! You must stay here.” Cora beamed. “I’ll tell Mrs. Carson to make up a room for you.”

He quirked a curious eyebrow at Mary. “Mrs. Carson?”

“Ah, that’s right– you missed all that!” Mary smiled. “Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were engaged last Christmas and married just a few weeks ago.”

“What happy news,” Charles replied, and meant it. He knew how fond Mary was of the old butler.

“Indeed,” Cora resumed. “I’ll go speak to her now, before I forget!” Rather suddenly, she reached out and patted Charles’s arm, smiling tearily. “Are you back in England for good?”

“I am.”

“Good, good.” Then she went off in search of the housekeeper, leaving a slightly bemused Charles and amused Mary in her wake.

“So what else have I missed, besides the downstairs nuptials?” Charles asked after a moment.

Mary thought. “Goodness, rather a lot!” She motioned for him to follow, and they went into the library away from the family’s prying eyes. She settled herself on the red sofa and he sat beside her.

“Anna is expecting a baby!” she began. “Perhaps you noticed, down at the flower show. Anyway, it’s such wonderful news and she deserves some wonderful news.”

“Were their legal troubles ever resolved?”

“Yes, they finally were, although not before she spent two months in prison. It was all so badly handled, honestly, and we’re glad to have it behind us.”

He understood that she did not want to talk about it any further. “I can imagine,” he said.

“But it’s not all been so gloomy. Rose got married. Then she and Atticus moved to New York for his work, and it sounds like the city suits them very well. Tom and Sybbie also moved to America, although they went to Boston. He’s got a cousin over there.”

“Gosh, do you hear from them much?”

“More often from Tom. He says it’s nice to see his relations and that Sybbie is doing beautifully in school.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Isn’t it? But I do miss them. I hope they’ll visit before too long.” Mary thought a bit more. “Since Tom’s been gone, I’ve been the estate agent.”

“Really!” He grinned. “Why, that’s fantastic!”

Mary’s cheeks pinked. “I think so. I hope I’m doing a good job.”

“I have no doubt that you are,” he told her seriously, and she gave a bashful smile.

“Perhaps you’d like to come with me on my rounds some day,” she suggested.

He reached for her hand, enveloping it gently in his. “I’d like that very much.”

“We can pay a visit to the pigs,” she added. “I think we ought to. They won a prize at the county fair in March and they wouldn’t even be alive to win prizes if it had not been for you.”

“You know I don’t deserve all the credit,” he returned. He squeezed her hand. “How far we’ve come since then!”

“Who would have guessed?”

Each of them chuckled a little as they recalled their first impressions of one another, so far removed from what they now felt.

But then they were interrupted, as Cora’s voice floated into the room. “Mary? Are you in here? It’s four o’clock!”

“Oh! Nanny must have brought the children down.” Mary grinned, and stood up. Charles followed suit.

“How is the little fellow? Doing well, I hope?”

“He’s growing up too fast, but yes, otherwise he is well.”

He nodded. “That is a frightening habit children have,” he agreed. “My niece and nephew are the same way.”

By that time, they had arrived back in the hall. George had been sitting with his grandmother, but when his mother appeared he ran to her.

“Hello, Georgie darling,” Mary said, and picked him up. “What have you been doing this afternoon?”

“Choo, choo!” he hooted merrily.

“Ah, the trains.”

“Want to come see?”

“I do! But later. Let’s sit with Granny for a bit longer.” She turned so that her son faced Charles. “Do you mind if my friend Mr. Blake comes too?”

“Sugar mice!” George said, clapping his hands.

For a moment Charles looked puzzled, but then his brow cleared, as he recalled that he had brought the sweets for George last time he visited. “I’m afraid I don’t have any sugar mice today. But next time!”

George was surprisingly amenable for a little boy deprived of candy. “Next time,” he echoed. “You can come. But only me and Mummy drive the trains.”

“Mummy and I,” Mary corrected automatically.

“Of course,” Charles said. “You two must be the experts.”

“Mostly me,” George replied frankly.

Mary snorted with laughter, and Charles could not suppress a grin. For a moment George was confused, because he had meant it. But he was glad to see Mummy laugh, and so he joined in.

Cora and Violet were watching from the other side of the hall. “Don’t they make a pretty picture!” Cora observed, teary once again.

“They do,” her mother-in-law agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been almost two years since I wrote this, and I am still sad that Mary/Charles was given short shrift.


End file.
